


We Couldn't Stop

by forestfairy72



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fullmetal Alchemist Ending Spoilers, NSFW, Post-Canon, Post-Promised Day, drunken bonding, roy does not do feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 10:55:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14079354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forestfairy72/pseuds/forestfairy72
Summary: After a night of drinking Havoc picks up the courage to ask General Mustang about his relationship with one Major Hawkeye.





	We Couldn't Stop

Jean Havoc tipped a glass to his boss, muttering "to bad life choices" before downing the remains of the drink.

The two men had been sat at the bar for hours, a small pyramid of overturned shot glasses laying between them. Now in the early hours of Wednesday morning the night blurred into an incoherent mess. It had begun as after work drinks with the Mustang crew but the rest of the men had left hours ago. Each had something to go home to. Now the pair were left alone in the bar, the jovial nature of the evening having rapidly descended into self-indulgent self-loathing.

"I always thought that it would be easy, y'know?" Havoc somewhat slurred. "Join military, help people, find a girl, settle down. But look at me. I'm a guy on borrowed legs who can't even admit he has feelings for the woman he's crazy about." He sighed. "God now I half wish I hadn't slept with her. I can't even face her anymore. Rebecca deserves so much better than the life I could give. Pretty pathetic huh?"

Mustang didn't reply, instead he studied his glass intently, pretending that he didn't just hear his subordinate admit he had broken the anti-fraternisation laws. Havoc looked at his superior, drowning his sorrows in his aunt's bar.

"You must know how I feel, sir? I mean, you and Hawkeye..?"

"What about me and Hawkeye." It was not a question. It was a full stop. Havoc pushed dangerously close to saying something stupid and he knew it.

"So never then?"

Havoc had wanted to ask the General this for years now. Several drinks in at god knows what time in the morning was as good a time as any he felt. Also the only time Mustang was likely to answer him honestly. It was not the first time Jean had asked either his boss or co-worker about the nature of their relationship. Though here in the bar the usual joking tone of the question was gone, replaced by what edged too close to pity for General Mustang's liking.

He shot the last of his whisky and signalled Madam for another.

"Never." Mustang locked eyes with Jean to prove his honesty, turned the glass upside down and pushed it next to the shot glass pyramid.

For a moment Havoc considered the line he crossed, questioning his boss' love life like this. After the Promised Day he had been certain, hell they all had been certain that Colonel Mustang and Lieutenant Hawkeye would give up the ghost and finally address the elephant in the room.

"But why? I mean you are obviously mad about each other! I mean, uh , sir.." Havoc trailed off, knowing that the fifth vodka was taking over his thought processes. Not to mention all of those damn shots. Bad life choices indeed.

"You know why Havoc." Mustang picked up the drink as soon as his aunt brought it over, tipped the glass to her as a way of thanks while she simply rolled her eyes in response. Last call was well over an hour ago.  

Jean had to admit that this simple sentence was more than he had expected to get out of the man. He was Roy Mustang for Christ's sake, sharing was not caring Mustang slowly raised the glass and took a large gulp. Too large probably.

"I asked her once." Another gulp. "She turned me down."

\- - -

It was a summer night and they had been working late. Not that that was anything out of the ordinary, after the Promised Day the work had just begun. Every waking moment was dedicated to rebuilding after the genocide of  Ishval. Each devoted to trying to pay their debt for the hell that was the Ishvallan civil war. And that was even before the Colonel had got his sight back from being healed by Marcoh's Philosopher's Stone. Now several years and several ranks higher it finally felt like they were making some headway. This of course meant even later nights. Even longer hours. In retrospect Roy surmised that was why he did it. The mixed bag of confusion, of delight, of accomplishment, of sheer sleep deprivation.

Hawkeye had come into the office with a stack of papers almost as high as her head. She placed them on his desk and the returned to her own, working her way through the sole file she had kept. He picked a folder from the top of the pile and rather than read, stared at her over it. She was focused, her eyes boring into the page, almost willing it to feed the information directly into her brain. They didn't call her the Hawk's Eye for nothing. Though it felt cruel, knowing the hell she had been through, to use that label now.

Instead Roy examined how she studied the page like nothing else in the universe mattered. Her hair was getting long, her fingers rising to sweep the fringe out of her eyes. As he carefully scanned her he realised that it was also threatening to spill out of her usually meticulous clip. Her military jacket slung over the back of her chair on this uncharacteristically hot night, meaning she was wearing a thin white shirt that was perfectly tailored to her curvy frame.  His eyes carried him down, past the insignia which now declared her as Major Hawkeye, down the curve of her spine before he finally snapped himself out of it.  

At this moment she realised he was watching her. Or at least Roy realised that she realised he was watching her. The woman sure was observant so she had probably known the entire time.

Roy returned his eyes to his own folder and tried to put any thoughts those fixed brown ones out of his head. They were hard to shake. When she looked at him it felt like he was seen for who he truly was. Not as some war hero. Not even as the monster that he believed himself to be. But as a man who made so many mistakes, too many mistakes, trying to right some of those wrongs.

Hawkeye finished the paper she was reading and strode over to his desk to collect the next one. They did not exchange any small talk, they had been beyond that for years now. Instead they went on with this routine, Mustang staring, Hawkeye reading, Hawkeye walking over to get the next file. Rinse, repeat.

Roy began to wonder if she had done this on purpose. Left all the files with him so she would be forced to come over to get a new one.  She did so dutifully, her fingers almost pausing as she grabbed the next file. By the fourth time she had come over Roy sat with his hand on top of the stack.

Riza reached to pick up a file and ever so gently grazed his fingers. It didn't make the momentary touch between them any less electric. Her hand halted. His edged closer. Riza brought her eyes to meet the Major General's and sub-consciously held her breath. Roy wore an expression somewhere between lust and loss as he opened his mouth to ask the question neither of them had ever dared to voice.

"Just once. Couldn't we...?"

Riza held his gaze.

"No." She released her breath slowly. "Sir, you know that we can't." She turned her face away and stared out of the window. "Because it wouldn't be just once." She turned back to face him with a sad smile. "We would never be able to stop."

They stayed there for a moment, the cold truth hanging in the air, the heat from their touching fingers the only thing keeping them grounded. Neither could tell how long they stayed like that before Roy broke the silence.

"You're right." He finally managed, pulling his hand back towards his chest. "You're right."

But if he could. Oh but if he could! In that moment he would have swept her up onto his desk, flinging the files to the side as if they were confetti. He would pull out the overstuffed hair clip, letting her blonde locks cascade down her back. He would  lace his hand through her hair as he drew her face close to his. But he would not kiss her, not unless she gave permission. She would of course, in his fantasy. She could throw caution to the wind and claw her hands up his back, grasping desperately for something to hold on to, something to root them. Roy would part her  lips hungrily, eager to make up for so much lost time. Riza would return this in kind by pulling off his jacket and snaking her hands up the back of his shirt, lightly scratching along Mustang's well defined muscles.

In this moment they would have another choice to make. But like Riza had said, they wouldn't be able to stop. She would be the one to press on, unsatisfied by the cloth still standing in her way and rip off his shirt. Roy would think two can play at that game and would pull away from the kiss, slowly unbuttoning her blouse, peeling it away carefully. He would stroke down her arms the entire way as a jolt of electricity ran up her spine. She would lightly gasp and even that would be enough to send a signal to his groin, which had been desiring this for years.

He would then kiss her collar bone, trailing soft, gentle kisses up her neck back up to her mouth. His hands would slide down her sides, in his fantasies he would never touch her back. They would glide along her silhouette and make their way to the clasp of her trousers, which he would undo in an instant. Slipping a hand into the waistband he would cup her behind and hoist her up as he expertly removed the trousers in one swift motion with the other. He would then pause, take a step back and behold the beauty before him.

Riza Hawkeye, clad only black lingerie atop his desk. Even in his mind it wouldn't be anything too sexy or outrageous. Riza was too practical for that, especially at work. He could not count how many times he had pictured this sight of her, cheeks pinked,  her shapely legs sliding apart and beckoning him closer. He would dip his finger into her underwear and slip it between her folds. She would be wet, no, dripping in anticipation of what was to come. She would let out another soft moan as he brushed over her sensitive nub and he would pledge to commit the sound to memory to warm him on the dark nights.

Caught between desperation and wanting to savour this moment he would freeze, but as always Riza would ground him. She would pull him back in for another kiss whilst simultaneously unbuckling his trousers and inching them down, freeing his shaft from its prison and then there would be no stopping. No time for doubts, no time for regrets.

Riza would grab on to his shoulder with one hand, the other gripping the heavy mahogany desk as he entered her. It would shake slightly as he rocked deeper, wanting to lose himself in her soft cries.

Time would fall away from them. It would no longer matter that they were in his office or that if someone were to walk past the door at that moment their military careers would be over. They would be as one at last, the heat growing between them until suddenly they would come undone. The years of unspoken desire would finally be laid bare as they pressed their foreheads together, lost in the moment.

He would want to whisper those three golden words, but how could they capture what he felt for this woman? For his queen?

"Sir."

Riza had spoken. But it was not the Riza in his head, it was the one stood in front of him. Suddenly he was broken out of the spell.

"Sir, I am going to leave for the night." She was asking permission.

"I think that would be for the best." Was all he could bring himself to say, worried to give away the sin that had just been going through his mind.

"Good night sir." She replied and left quickly, without another word, worried to give away the sin that was going through her own.

\- - -

Roy felt a sudden pain in his arm, jolting him alert.

"Roy-Boy I'm putting my foot down, you and your little friend here need to beat it." Chris was poking Roy from the other side of the bar.

"Alright already," Mustang picked himself out of his seat "come on Havoc, it's time to go home."

Both men thanked Madam Christmas who only scoffed at them as she began wiping down the bar.

They walked in silence, with surprisingly accurate footwork for the amount of alcohol flowing through their systems. The sun had begun to rise but the air still held the night's chill which Roy was thankful for. Though the sun's beams were hard to adjust to exiting the dark bar. Soon enough they reached the corner where they would go the separate ways. Havoc stopped.

"Sir," He paused. "You know, if something were to happen between you and the Major... You know we would all support you right? I mean after all you have done in for the rebuilding of Ishval. No one would stand against you. Amestris sees you guys as he-"

"Don't say it." Mustang cut him off. "Because it isn't true. We know what we are."

Mustang blinked at the sun, unsure if the pain he was feeling was from his emerging hangover or the painful memory he had relived.

"I'll see you in a few hours sir." Havoc saluted.

"Indeed." Mustang replied. "And Havoc?"

"Yes sir?"

"Rebecca. Don't let her get away."

And with that Roy Mustang turned on his heel to journey to his empty house hoping for enough time to dry out before work.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! Hope you enjoyed this wee angsty tale. This is the first time I have written anything Mature which I'm sure shows so any and all feedback is appreciated! Thank you for reading :)
> 
> Edit: Holy shit was there terrible grammar in the first version of this! Hopefully this edit has made it less jarring.


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